


Truth & Justice in a New American Century

by WT Maxwell (WThomas_M)



Category: DCU (Comics), Superman (Comics)
Genre: Gen, Justice for all, Mount Rushmore, One of our president's heads is missing, do you really want to build that wall?, maybe more than one, some people in Kent's life aren't kidding, we live on native land
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-29
Updated: 2018-08-09
Packaged: 2020-05-18 15:35:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19337431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WThomas_M/pseuds/WT%20Maxwell
Summary: Folks often talk about Supes' relationship with "Truth, Justice and the American Way" as something antiquated. I always wondered what would happen if he -really- leaned into that idea.





	1. That Time with the Heads

_The following is part of Tom Owens’ ongoing series ‘Truth and Justice in a New American Century’, an examination of Superman’s exploits across North America._

* * *

 

To be able to understand what happened in South Dakota, I need to take you back a couple of months. At the time, I was covering Big Blue when he was over on the West Coast, checking out some hidden alien base a couple of miles off-shore of Catalina. Turns out that was a wreck from the 40s, around the time of the Battle of Los Angeles (look it up) and some of the crew were still alive. After delivering them back to their homeworld, he did what he always does when he’s been active around a place and does a fly-over. It’s kind of a Superman PR move, making sure he’s kind of humanized for the city that sees him. That, and I think he honestly enjoys exploring new places in detail.

I’d managed to commit him to getting lunch at Philippe’s, a place downtown with these incredible french dip sandwiches and let me tell you, in a jaded city full of movie stars and high powered media personalities, there is nothing funnier than watching people freak out when Superman is in line with them getting lunch.  
So we’re upstairs eating. I’ve got my notes and recorder out, asking him what he thought about Los Angeles, his impressions. He practically never starts with the landmarks or the environment. It’s always about the people.

For those folks who’ve only dealt with him for a short time, or who only see him in action, it’s easy to forget that he’s an alien. But when you get close up, it’s much easier to see. There’s some subtle differences, with the eyes, the teeth, sometimes even the hair, that scream different. If if wasn’t for the fact that he radiates calm, I’m sure some people would run for the hills. In fact, that’s probably why Luthor hates him so much. He just can’t get over the differences.

But Superman’s always the first to try and put people at ease. In fact, from what I gather, that’s one of the traits of his people. I asked him, point blank, why Kryptonians look so much like us and he immediately responded that they don’t. For the Kryptonians, at their level of technology, bodies were kind of like suits. Within reason (like size differences), they wore different ones for different purposes. Science bodies for science, military bodies for war, religious bodies for worship. But to keep their society together, they had to develop social practices that let them get along with each other.

The capsule that brought him here wove a body that would suit the people who found him. If he’d landed on the other side of the planet, well… it would be a different story, then, wouldn’t it?

I remember Superman telling me a story about how a group of white supremacists had cornered him, proudly claiming him as their Ubermensch. That meeting left the group profoundly disappointed as they found they had nothing in common with him and that Superman’s connections with the untermensch were far more robust and secure than any connection with them.

I’ve heard people describe him more as a force of nature than as a person. I suppose that works.

Over a slice of pie, Superman told me he had been flying over UCLA when he noticed a young man staring at him. That wasn’t unusual. What was different was that the young man was mouthing the words “I’m just like you.”

Big Blue took the opportunity to come down and talk with him. Turns out the young man was a member of the TLCEE program, an American Indian program that was part of the UCLA Law school. They talked about each other’s experience, about being orphaned, having no access to home, about being raised by outsiders. Sometime near the end of the conversation, the young man asked what Superman wanted, given he could pretty much do anything. Superman’s response was “I wish I could go home.” The young man, a Lakota, said he wished that too.

* * *

Coming up on the now, I get lucky. I’m off in North Dakota, doing a follow-up story on the Standing Rock protests (what happened then, what’s happening now), when I get the call to hoof it over to South Dakota right damned immediately. Something to do with Superman and an incident and I need to be first on the scene.  
The designated spot is that big viewing area across from Mt. Rushmore. The one with the perfect place to take pictures of the monument. I have to get past three layers of security, including a freaking tank before they let me drive up. No recording allowed. I don’t understand the fuss.

Then I see Mount Rushmore.

And I understand the fuss.

The heads are missing.

Missing is kind of a misnomer. I mean, it’s not like they’ve been scooped out. It’s like the mountain has been repaired or reshaped. It’s like the heads were never really there.

There’s this huge mound of gravel that’s been at the base forever; that was leftover trash from the original carving when the artist wanted to build full bodies for the presidents but failed. The gravel’s gone too. The place is flipping pristine.

I’m having a tough time parsing out what the hell happened here.

That’s when I spot the four-star general and my breath catches. They only call out the four-star generals when they’re really pissed with him.

On cue, here comes Superman.

He’s the absolute pillar of calm, which is great because the general is all-around losing it. Accusing Big Blue of destroying a national monument. Blue’s response is that they monitor him all the time. He asks if anyone saw him do this.

The general has to admit no one did. Supes has an alibi. He even casually lightly jokes that Luthor did it. That leads to another round of shouting from the general.

The general moves from there to threatening prosecution for a federal crime. Blue asks under which government would he be prosecuted and points to the Treaty of Fort Laramie as the legal precedent for the question. The general tells him to not get political, which leads Blue to smile softly.

The general calls it vandalism and Blue agrees, saying that it was. He then notes what a beautiful mountain it is. The argument then shifts to loss of jobs, tourism, the responsibility of the vandal to fix things. It’s pointed out that people visit landmarks even if there aren’t faces on the sides, that tourism can still flourish if the land is taken care of, and that the responsible thing to do here would be to take this in stride.

Besides, if the government didn’t want it, they could always return it to its original owners.

The general asked if that was Superman’s intent. He said it was the original owner’s intent, as stated to the Supreme Court in 1980 and in every year after.

This didn’t make the general happy.

Blue explained that it was only a matter of time. Sculptures fade, even governments fade, but the mountain remains. Then he quoted Shelley:

“'My name is Ozymandias, king of kings;

Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!'

Nothing beside remains. Round the decay

Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare

The lone and level sands stretch far away.”

Seeing Superman standing there, arms folded, cape blowing behind him in a timely wind, I was reminded again how distant he was, how different, and how, sometimes because of that, how human he could be.

The general pulled his cap down and left soon after. Superman gave me a nod, and flew off into the sunset sky.


	2. That Time with the Wall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Has anybody ever wondered about Superman's stance on immigration? Of course they have! And here's what happens when Supes decides to put that stance into action.

_The following is part of Tom Owens’ ongoing series ‘Truth and Justice in a New American Century’, an examination of Superman’s exploits across North America._

* * *

 

My editor knows I have a love for tacos. He’s been witness to my water-cooler rants about the fine distinctions between Cal-Mex, Tex-Mex and Oaxacan cuisine. So, I suppose it was no surprise to anyone that I ended up with a month-long assignment traveling to several border cities to talk about immigration and the quality of hurricane relief in Puerto Rico. He thought there was a good story comparing America’s treatment of its neighbors to the south with its treatment of its territorial citizens. Good point, I suppose, given the current administration.

That meant I was in Corpus Christi on assignment when Starro’s invasion of New Orleans went down. All the majors were sent there in the aftermath; even Catco sent in three separate media teams to cover the fallout. The basic details were that a piece of Starro lost in the deep ocean had been washed ashore by the same hurricane that had rattled Puerto Rico. It had regenerated and the infection had begun. Emergency crews had been hit first with mini-Starros possessing them; the population was rapidly going under next. Superman was on scene almost immediately after the word went out. He cordoned off the city and then began systematically isolating the worst parts, preventing Starro’s spread until the government could deal with the possessed citizens.

Simple enough tale, right?

They missed the big part.

Instead of New Orleans, I was send to San Diego on a hot tip that proved to be one hell of a follow-up. That meant I was on site when it all went down.

* * *

The San Ysidro border crossing is one of the busiest in North America, just shy of a hundred thousand vehicles and twenty-five thousand pedestrians daily. It serves as the connection between the city of San Diego and the city of Tijuana and the vast hub of trade between the two. It was pretty eerie, then, to see the border closed and people on both sides backed up to a safe distance.

The forces of the crowds on other end, out of their cars or on foot, pushed up against army barricades was intense. There was frustration, there was worry. Not unanticipated but still unnerving. My press pass got me closer than most, and that’s where I ran into my opposite number, Lois Lane. I have no ideas how she gets tips like these but she’s a Pulitzer Prize winner so she’s probably knows where enough bodies are buried to go wherever she likes.

Lane let me know that the military presence was all show and crowd control. Blue had chosen this spot for the meeting. I was about to ask about what when she shook her head and nodded towards a long staff car heading towards the center of the cleared zone. I noted the military markings and met her gaze long enough for both of us to roll our eyes. It was the transport for a four star general. They only call them out when they are annoyed at the Big Guy.

The general was barely out of his car, cap off, staring into the sky, when Big Blue descended, slowly and with a well-deserved confidence. The crowd erupted in a low, rumbling cheer that he acknowledged. Lane’s partner, James Olsen, was in there, immediately, snapping shots, instant uploads to the Planet’s media feed, dictating instant impressions into his headpiece. Lane and I were able to catch the opening words from the general.

“The whole god damned wall?”

Blue’s response was soft. The general’s wasn’t. He sputtered on about fences and construction and costs and irreparable damage. It took a minute for it to settle in. I looked over at Lane. “The wall? The border wall?”

Lane nodded, with a smugness that gave me a sense that she’d had a heads-up on this. “All two thousand miles of it. Every fencepost, barbed wire, concrete wall. All of it.”

“Holy s***.” I was pretty blown away.

Superman was gently explaining things to the general, in a voice that seemed to carry out to the crowds. Starro. The wall was used to contain that problem. And, in addition, there was a need for relief supplies for Puerto Rico, since apparently some calls for infrastructure help were being help up on the administration’s side.

The crowd erupted into laughter and a cheer at that bit. The general turned about four shades of red. He demanded that Superman put it back. Blue politely declined. He pointed out that doing so at the moment would endanger lives in both New Orleans and Puerto Rico, and later, he couldn’t honorably promise his attention because other crises could come to his attention that would prevent him from rebuilding. And the general wouldn’t want to endanger people’s lives by having Superman build something useless, would he?

That led to a prolonged lecture on how Superman had irreparably damaged national security. I have to admit Blue was a hell of a lot more patient with listening to it than I would have been. The lecture ended with the time-honored axiom delivered from every parent to a naughty child. If Superman was in the general’s position, what would he do?

That was a mistake.

Superman smiled, as if he knew this was coming.

Then Superman told him exactly what he’d do.

First came history: the policies that lead to the wall came strictly from racist politicians and their reactions, not from sound, evidence-based experience. He quoted not only the lines made famous by the Statue of Liberty, but the whole poem:

Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,

With conquering limbs astride from land to land;

Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand

A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame

Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name

Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand

Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command

The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.

“Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!” cries she

With silent lips. “Give me your tired, your poor,

Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,

The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.

Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me,

I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”  
  
Evidence and historical experience showed that America became stronger with each wave of immigrants. That they made the country safer, stronger, and that consistently they had proven to be law-abiding and beneficial to the communities in which they settled. Immigrants that had not received citizen status, due to payroll taxes and sales tax contributed to a system that paid back their hosts in a very palpable way.

The crowd was silent, hanging on every word. The general was not unappreciative of that and, I have to admit, the soldiers doing crowd control were looking a bit nervous as well.

Big Blue moved from the foundation of his arguments to specific suggestions.

Seasonal workers could return home if the borders were open, relieving infrastructure burden during the off-season. Forces focused on border control could instead be re-purposed to deal with any criminal activity, regardless of which side of the border in came from. Human suffering from crossing  inhospitable territories would be vastly reduced.

Those were a few of the benefits.

How to enact them were equally simple.

Laminated cards with unique IDs, provided by software already possessed by the NSA and other government agencies, given to non-citizens who were there to vacation or look for work. Vacation IDs could be ‘loaded’ with the information of length of stay of states intended to be visited. Work IDs would be valid for only a month, when they’d revert to Vacation IDs, unless work was located and registered with the IRS. Both could be altered or renewed at the local post office, using the passport office, which would bring another source of revenue to that government system and improve its services overall.

Refugees were a different matter.

Superman asked the general to imagine something similar to the gardens build near Fresno by the artist Forestiere. One man who had build an oasis of green underground, a respite from the heat and beautiful to the eyes. Imagine being led into that green space, just a short walk from the border, down a staircase, and from there to a common room, where people could clean up and get a hot meal, prepared by culinary students from the local cities, eager to show off their skills. And as they ate, surrounded by fellow refugees, social workers would come and start the process that would lead to their eventual fate in the United States.

All for a fraction of the cost of building and manning a useless wall.

The general was chewing his lip, considering what had been said, considering the crowd. He offered that it was a nice dream, but was it even feasible. Superman simply stated that America was once founded on a dream.

He paused there, listening to something only he could hear. He apologized to the general. A tornado was threatening a populated area in Kansas and a very suspicious earthquake had just happened off the coast of Madrid, possibly connected to doings in Atlantis. He was needed elsewhere.  
The general nodded and Superman left.

What happened next surprised me. The general walked away from his car and straight towards us. Next thing I knew, we were face to face with him.

“On the record?” Lane asked.

The general shrugged. “I don’t know how the administration will respond. We don’t have the resources to just throw up another wall and we certainly don’t have the public faith to try and pressure that man into anything. But humans are a pretty damned stubborn lot, so I’m just not sure.”

Lane just matched the general’s gaze. She knew how to bring it. “A good man knows when to stand his ground. And when to give it.”

The general nodded. “Even so. Give my regards to your father, Miss Lane.”

“I will.”

He looked at me. “Mr. Owens.”

I nodded.

That was it. He left, the military on both sides backed off, and everything went back to normal. Except, as Lane and Olsen and I sat there, eating tacos by the side of the road, there was an energy we’d never seen, a dream spread by word of mouth, from person to person.

Give us your tired, your poor, your huddled masses…  
  



	3. The "El" Manifesto

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some folks who knew Clark Kent grew up to have normal, good lives, ignorant of what their classmate became. Some knew, and in knowing, it changed the course of their future.

So much of the current conflict some down to symbols. What it means to hold truth, or justice, or America.  
  
He will be the symbol of my resistance.  
  
He is an illegal alien, escaping from an unimaginable tragedy we cannot ever verify.

He was raised by a hard-working, American family. Whether they were loggers in Oregon, pickers in California, fishermen in New England or farmers in Kansas, they provided a moral and accepting environment.  
  
Born to be a hero, he chose talk truth to power and presenting the facts on a level only surpassed by the person he trusts with his story, the Pulitzer-prize winning journalist, Lois Lane.  
  
As a hero, he first fought for the common man, against criminals, corporations, corrupt governments and foreign interference.  
  
When he learned about his home culture, he valued and preserved it alongside the culture that raised him, enriching both heritages.  
  
His home culture valued science and faith in equal measure.  
  
His peers among heroes have been the most diverse in the world.  
  
His cousin showed the world that he is not a fluke or a result simply of upbringing.  
  
As a character in a popular radio show, he was used to bring down the KKK and make white supremacists look like fools.  
  
In those brief times where different universes have been glimpsed, he has been there, shown representing many races. One of them is black and he's the president.

For all this, I choose not to be silent in the face of injustice against any race, creed or color. I act.  
  
I wear the crest of the House of El, to show resistance, solidarity and the willingness to ACT to uphold his values which we hold so dear. I pledge to fight and to #resist_the_current_tyranny  
  
Come with me, join my quest, and we will change the world.  
  
LL


End file.
